


Code Breaker

by nekosmuse_archive (nekosmuse)



Category: Without a Trace
Genre: Getting Together, M/M, Not Actually Unrequited Love
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-04-11
Updated: 2020-04-11
Packaged: 2021-03-01 18:33:29
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 4,552
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/23601619
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/nekosmuse/pseuds/nekosmuse_archive
Summary: Written pre 2005. Posting for archival purposes.The thing about Martin is...
Relationships: Martin Fitzgerald/Danny Taylor
Kudos: 6





	Code Breaker

The thing with Martin is that there is no thing with Martin.

Nothing. Never has been and never will be and Danny *knows* that. He gets that. He's been well aware of that for going on four years now and, mostly, he's okay with that.

And mostly he remembers that; remembers that it's okay to look and want but never take because Martin is. Off. Limits.

Completely and utterly unavailable and untouchable and, again, Danny gets that. He knows that. Understands and processes that. Except...

Sometimes Martin will look at him. Nothing more, just look, and sometimes Danny will see things that *shouldn't* be there. Things that Danny knows are likely figments of his imagination, but sometimes, on the rarest of occasions, Martin will *look* and Danny will wonder.

On those days it's really hard not to grab Martin by the lapels on his jacket, pull him forward and kiss him.

But Danny doesn't, because Martin is still. Off. Limits.

It happens on a Saturday.

They're working, because the FBI doesn't shut down for the weekend and people go missing *all the damn time* so there is no such thing as a day off. Sam's standing next to Martin's desk, obviously flirting and Martin, well, Martin looks annoyed.

Danny suspects that has a lot to do with Anne, actually, because Sam didn't start flirting until Anne showed up, Jack sweeping her into his office and it's pretty obvious that Martin *knows* exactly what Sam's doing, so it makes sense that he would be annoyed.

And Danny's trying not to be giddy about that, he really is, but he only recently found out that SamandMartin were no longer SamandMartin, but rather Sam and Martin and it's amazing what a difference a single space can make.

So he's watching; watching Sam flirt and taking in Martin's annoyance and trying not to smile because the entire thing is making him happier than he has a right to be --which is even more fucked up now than it would have been a year ago, because he knows now that Martin's made of spun glass and that scares him in ways that he doesn't like to question.

But Sam's still flirting and Martin's still looking annoyed and then Martin glances over and *looks* and just like that Danny forgets everything he's ever told himself about Martin and the impossibility of trying something because Martin's *looking* and somewhere in the depths of his eyes two emotions become clear.

Save me is the first and that Danny can handle.

Longing is the second and that Danny can't even begin to process.

In fact, it's so startling that Danny drops the mug in his hand, not registering it hitting the floor or the fact that it shatters on impact. Martin smiles in response and only then does Danny realize that his shoes are now covered in coffee.

~*~

They're very purposely *not* talking.

Which isn't usually a bad thing because they've always been better at communicating without words than with and Danny rather likes that Martin's the only person he can sit in silence with and not feel awkward.

Except.

It is awkward.

Really awkward and Danny's three seconds away from climbing out of his skin because Martin's sitting *right* next to him, nothing but a parking brake between them and heavy silence around them and Danny can't stop thinking about that *look*.

He's been thinking about it all day, actually; replaying it and analyzing it and trying to figure out if what he saw was actually what he thought he saw or simply what he wanted to see.

All things considered, it's not a bad thing to think about, except for the obsession thing, because that? Kind of driving him crazy.

It probably wouldn't be so bad if it was just him, but Martin seems to be well aware of Danny's mood and likely what caused it and he hasn't said anything and Danny's pretty sure there's a rule somewhere that says the person who caused the awkwardness is required to break it.

But Martin's not breaking it.

In fact, he's just as silent as Danny is, just as lost in thought as Danny is and, if anything, it's only making the awkwardness that much more palpable.

So much so, in fact, that Danny's tempted to get out of the car and start running.

He doesn't.

Mostly because, technically, they are working and he knows leaving in the middle of a stakeout would likely get him fired, but also because it's at that exact moment that their suspect decides to show up and Danny's too stunned by Martin's sudden shit to process anything beyond the sudden lack of silence.

It's so bad that Martin actually makes it out of the car and across the street before Danny realizes that he's still sitting in the car, staring at the seat Martin just vacated and Danny blinks before remembering that he really should be following Martin into the apartment building their suspect just entered.

~*~

Danny has a rule. It goes like this:

Do not, *ever*, under any circumstance, get involved with a co-worker.

Getting involved with a co-worker leads to distraction and distraction leads to messing up and messing up leads to people getting hurt.

Or in this case; him getting hurt.

And, technically, he's not involved with Martin, at least, not in any real sense of the term. He is, however, invested in Martin --emotionally, physically, psychologically and a dozen other ways that Danny can't put into words-- and it's that investment that led to distraction, which led to messing up, which led to Danny blindly entering a building and getting a fist to his face.

His nose isn't broken, though; it just hurts like hell and won't stop bleeding, but the doctors assure him he'll be fine.

Danny's not so sure about that.

He doesn't feel fine, anyway. His head hurts and his face feels puffy and he's pretty sure Jack's just dying to lecture him on why he should be following procedure. Then, of course, there's his inability to focus on basic things --like his job, for instance-- which almost led to their suspect getting away (and thank God for Martin showing up at exactly the right moment) which could have easily led to them not finding their missing girl in time, which could have easily led to things Danny would rather not think about.

And that's not even the worst of it.

Because in addition to hurting and dreading a lecture and feeling like a complete fuck up --never mind that Danny's trying *very* hard not to think about the fact that it could have very easily been Martin who got hurt because of Danny's inability to function-- Martin's taking to hovering and *looking* and this time his look conveys longing *and* worry and it's just about the limit of what Danny's brain can process.

It's so bad, in fact, that the second they make it back to the office Danny slips into the men's room, locks himself in a stall, perches on the edge of the toilet seat and just sits there.

It's a good place to be, actually, because there's a roll of toilet paper next to him and Danny's nose is still bleeding, so having a constant supply of tissue at his side is pretty handy.

There's the added benefit of being alone and being alone means he can focus on exactly what's going on and exactly what he's supposed to do without having to worry about anyone --i.e. Martin-- distracting him.

And Martin is distracting, Danny realizes. Has been for years, but it's only lately that Danny's really registered it because, lately, Martin seems to have clued in to Danny's interest and that's making it very difficult for Danny to pretend everything is *normal*.

He was so good at it before --an expert at pretending he was *fine* with their friendship and working relationship. An expert at pretending he didn't want anything beyond said friendship and working relationship, and now all of that seems to have changed.

All because of a look.

A fucking *look* that, if Danny's honest with himself, probably doesn't mean what he thought it meant because this is Martin --poster child for straight boys everywhere-- and Martin doesn't offer longing glances to his *male* co-workers. Sam, sure, maybe even Elena because Martin seems to have a thing for unnatural Barbie-esque women, but never, not ever, his *male* co-workers.

So obviously there's another explanation, something that makes sense in this reality because Martin is Martin and Danny is Danny and regardless of how much Danny wishes it were otherwise, there is no DannyandMartin.

The solution, then, is simply to *stop* thinking about Martin.

Which is easier said then done, because as soon as Danny thinks it he decides that, maybe, hiding in the bathroom isn't necessarily the best plan in the world, which leads to him tucking a fistful of toilet paper into his pocket before standing and leaving the stall, which leads to him coming face to face with the very person he just vowed to stop thinking about.

And when Martin followed him into the men's room Danny doesn't know.

"Hey."

And oh yes, this is going to be interesting, because Martin's look has now incorporated amusement and Danny's pretty sure it's illegal to convey so many conflicting emotions in one, single glance.

"Hey," Danny replies, shifting nervously because he's pretty much incapable of standing still.

"You okay?" Martin asks, worry pushing to the forefront and it doesn't dim until Danny nods.

"Yeah, just..." he replies, gesturing to the bloody wad of tissue in his hand.

Martin nods at that, completely understanding, like it makes perfect sense that Danny might want to bleed in private.

"That was really stupid of you, you know," Martin comments, never once breaking eye contact and the worry's gone, as is the amusement, leaving only longing and this time Danny's sure he's not imagining it.

It's so startlingly obvious that Danny's rendered incapable of responding, instead standing there and staring, blinking and wondering exactly what dimension he's managed to fall in and it takes Martin stepping forward to break him from his trance.

"I... um." And yeah, he's doing quite well on the whole vocalizing his thoughts thing.

Martin doesn't seem to care, though, still moving forward and he doesn't stop until they're standing practically toe to toe, Martin reaching into his pocket, pulling out a *silk* handkerchief --and only Martin would own a handkerchief, and a silk one at that-- before leaning forward, pressing the corner of it against the underside of Danny's nose and the entire experience is too surreal for words.

So of course Danny ignores the small voice in his head telling him to go with it and pulls back instead, replacing Martin's handkerchief with the tissue in his hand, Martin drawing back almost regretfully before replacing the --still clean-- scrap of silk back into his pocket.

"Jack's looking for you," is all Martin says and then he's leaving, Danny watching him go and wondering if his life could possibly get any more complicated than it currently is.

~*~

Apparently it can, get more complicated, that is, because after an hour of listening to Jack ream him out, only to have Jack send him home, Danny emerges from Jack's office to find Martin *waiting* for him next to the elevators.

He's not even being subtle about it, instead pushing himself off the wall the second he spots Danny, steps just a little bit laboured --and Danny hates that he's still looking for signs that Martin's not as okay as he claims to be-- as he makes his way to Danny's side.

"Hey, how did it go?" Martin asks upon reaching his side, Danny shaking his head in response, hoping Martin will drop the matter and leave him alone long enough for Danny to get his thoughts together.

He doesn't, instead following Danny *onto* the elevator and Danny can't even feign surprise. Not after the day he's had, anyway, instead simply hitting the button for the ground floor, letting Martin ride down with him and it's not until they step out onto the street, Martin obviously intent on following him home, that Danny snaps.

"What the hell are you doing?" he asks, tone just a little too loud and it earns them several curious glances.

Enough that Danny instantly regrets the question, Martin looking just a little affronted and the sight is enough to make Danny consider taking the question back.

He doesn't, mostly because he wants an answer, damn it, because Martin doesn't get to spend four years blissfully unaware and then suddenly expect Danny to clue into his sudden change of heart.

There's also this twisted part of himself that sort of hopes he's wrong, that Martin's really just being a concerned friend so that Danny can go back to pining in private because, regardless of how painful that was, it's nothing compared to the constant confusion of having Martin actually reciprocate his interest.

Martin's answer, then, only serves to confuse him further.

"Sam just asked me if I wanted to go out for drinks," Martin tells him, laughing softly, like Danny should be able to interpret exactly what that means and find the humour in it.

He can't, and even if he could, Danny doubts he'd find it funny.

"I see. So Sam's asking you out because Jack's started dating again and you're, what? Following me home to punish her? Prove you're over her?"

And yeah, asking kind of makes him an asshole, but it's pretty much the only explanation that makes any kind of sense and Danny's getting a little sick of Martin's head games.

It's not really surprising, then, when Martin shakes his head, hurt and incredulity flashing in his eyes before he turns away.

Danny watches him go and tries not to worry about the fact that he's just fucked up the only thing he's ever really wanted.

~*~

It's still Saturday, quickly closing in on Sunday, when Danny knocks on Martin's door.

He's been thinking about it pretty much from the moment he got home, wishing he could take back his scorn and accusation and make things right, but it took another nose bleed --this one not as bad as the constant fountain that plagued him pretty much all afternoon and well into the evening-- before he finally decided to hell with his pride.

He knows he must look terrible --eyes slightly dark, face slightly swollen and nose chapped beyond recognition, but hey, at least his nose stopped bleeding-- knows too that there's a good chance Martin's either not home, or not alone, but that doesn't stop him from knocking, knowing if he doesn't do this now Martin will retreat back to that place that Danny's never once been able to penetrate and, really, Danny's pretty much an idiot for not taking when offered.

He couldn't really help himself, though, because he's spent too long labouring under the assumption that Martin was *off limits*, so really, he can be forgiven for not knowing how to deal with the shattering of that theory.

Martin answers the door in a t-shirt and a pair of pajama bottoms and he looks... rumpled.

Really fucking *good*, actually, and that pretty much makes up Danny's mind.

Enough that he doesn't say anything, doesn't let Martin get a word out, just steps into Martin's apartment uninvited, grabs the front of Martin's t-shirt, drags Martin forward and *kisses* him. Hard.

Which, in hindsight, was probably a really, really bad idea, because the second their lips connect, pain flashes white-hot, reminding Danny of his not-quite-broken nose.

And he must have whimpered, because a second later Martin's pulling back, hands cupping Danny's cheeks and he's apologizing, like it was his fault Danny kissed him and the entire situation is so Martin Danny can't help but laugh.

He stops laughing as soon as he registers Martin's look, the longing still there, but it's tinged with worry and doubt and uncertainty so clear that Danny's breath actually catches.

"Sorry... I just... fuck. I can't seem to get this right," Danny explains, offering an apologetic smile that Martin returns a moment later.

"I think it's safe to say we're both kind of bad at this," Martin answers, expression becoming almost affectionate and that Danny can deal with.

Just like he can deal with Martin ushering him inside, the sound of Martin's door closing behind him. And he can deal with Martin's hovering hands, Martin not quite touching, but obviously wanting to and it makes Danny feel like he's suddenly on solid ground again, like he has some measure of control over the situation.

It's still nothing like he pictured; no torn clothes or bruising kisses, no frantic touches or rushed movements, just Martin leading him down a dark hall, into a darker bedroom that smells distinctly like Martin and an odd sense of anticipation that feels more like completion than beginning.

~*~

And yeah, he really is an idiot --a complete moron to ever think to question this or worry about this or even refuse this because this? Is quite possibly the most incredible sensation he has ever experienced.

And he knew, *knew* they'd be hot together, but knowing it and experiencing it are two entirely different things and his knowing didn't come anywhere close to preparing him for what it would *feel* like to have Martin inside him.

To have Martin moving against him; skin just a little damp, eyes just a little glazed, muscles just a little taunt and Danny can't even begin to process the reality of it.

Instead he concentrates on angling his hips, meeting Martin's strokes, clenching his muscles whenever Martin slides fully inside, relaxing them every time Martin draws back.

The rest of his energy is focused on not passing out from the lack of oxygen and trying to remember not to surge forward and lock their lips together because three times now he's forgotten and done exactly that and it still hurts just as much as it did the first time.

Martin seems to be aware of that too, purposely staying back, content to watch, gaze just as intense as it has been all day and the sight makes Danny want to question exactly what changed to bring them to now.

He doesn't think it matters, though, so he doesn't say anything, instead closing his eyes and groaning as Martin once again pushes forward, pausing long enough to grind their hips together before pulling back and Danny's pretty sure he's going to come long before he's ready.

He suspects the same is true for Martin; Martin's lips pressed into a thin line, sweat beading on Martin's forehead and his arms are trembling from supporting his weight.

It give Danny pause, Danny once again confronted with the knowledge that Martin isn't as healed as he pretends to be and when Martin pulls back, Danny reaches over and pushes on his hips until he slides out.

The look that earns him almost makes Danny regret his decision, regret and fear flashing in Martin's eyes and Danny shushes him before sitting up, hands coming up to land on Martin's shoulders, guiding him back until he's sprawled out across the bed.

He relaxes the second Danny climbs into his lap, expression once again becoming focused and Danny wraps his hand around the base of Martin's cock, holds it steady and lowers himself down, Martin easily sliding back inside.

And this, *this* is better, because now Danny can control the pace without having to worry about Martin re-injuring his hip. It also gives Danny an unobstructed view of Martin, letting him take in the clean lines of Martin's hips, trace his fingers across the still slightly puckered scars running across Martin's chest and stomach.

And Martin shivers at that, just slightly, but Danny can feel it beneath his fingertips, Martin's skin seeming to ripple beneath his touch and Danny likes the reaction so much that he does it a second time.

Earning a moan in the process, Martin's eyes falling shut, mouth falling open and when Danny lifts up, hovering at Martin's tip and contracting his muscles before relaxing and sliding back down, Martin lets out a shuddering breath that's quite possibly the hottest sound Danny's ever heard.

So hot, in fact, that Danny wants to hear it again; wants to know exactly what it would take for Martin to lose control.

In his fantasies, Martin's never this open --never this relaxed and never this trusting-- instead remaining slightly closed off like he is in the office and Danny's quickly finding that he likes this side of Martin better.

There are other things too; little things that Danny wasn't expecting that he realizes now he should have anticipated. The blush he counted on, Martin's entire body flushed deep red, but the lines around his eyes every time he squeezes them shut come as a surprise, as does the way his knuckles white as he kneads the sheets beneath him.

The sound is a surprise too, Danny never once being able to imagine the sound of Martin groaning, the sound of Martin grunting, the sound of Martin whimpering; even the sound of Martin's ragged breathing never once entered into Danny's imagination and there's something distinctly *real* about knowing that Martin's not afraid to vocally express his appreciation.

The heat in Martin's eyes surprises him too, like maybe Martin's wanted this just as long as he has and that's another question Danny finds himself wanting to ask --exactly how long ago could he have had this?

Because he has a feeling it's a lot longer than just today, none of this feeling particularly new, but rather like something that's been building for years and Danny once again wonders exactly what it was about today that brought them to this place.

He doesn't ask, instead lifting up, using his position as an opportunity to reach around behind them, wrapping his hand around Martin's balls and squeezing as he slides back down. It's a little awkward, but Martin seems to appreciate the effort, back bowing as he arches forward, eyes once again closing and he grunts something that Danny suspects was meant to be a curse.

And he knows Martin swears --has heard Martin curse on numerous occasions-- but it still surprises him, enough that he finds himself squeezing a second time in hopes of hearing something worse. He doesn't get it, Martin growling instead, getting out a choked off Danny that nearly makes Danny come.

Martin's watching him now, eyes harder than Danny can ever remember them being and Danny can tell Martin's getting impatient. Danny doesn't blame him --he's been on the receiving end of a tease himself, after all, and there's only so long a person can hold out before the need to orgasm drives them crazy.

Still, Danny does it a third time before picking up the pace, squeezing just a little harder than necessary before sliding his fingers back as far as he can manage. He hits the soft expanse of skin just behind Martin's balls, pressing hard before shifting up, slamming back down almost immediately before pulling up, Martin grabbing his hips and thrusting him down before Danny even reaches Martin's tip.

It seems to be all Martin needed, though, Martin's hips bucking, hip bones digging into the underside of Danny's thighs and Danny clenches down hard just as Martin reaches his peak.

Danny waits just until Martin relaxes before pulling up, letting Martin slide out of him, the inside of the condom sticky and wet and all Danny really wants is to wrap his hand around his cock and stroke until he comes.

He doesn't, mostly because he wants Martin to make him come, but partly because he's too distracted by the soft smile on Martin's lips to care about coming.

It's enough that he once again forgets his nose, this time ignoring the slight twinge of pain as he leans forward and presses their lips together, kissing Martin like he wanted to when he first stepped foot in the door and the second Martin starts kissing him back, Danny reaches between them and wraps his hand around his base.

Martin breaks the kiss first, once again apologizing like it was Danny who pulled back first. He doesn't hover this time, though, instead placing his hand over Danny's, lacing their fingers together and Danny lets Martin set the pace.

It's slower than he wants, but it's Martin so that more than makes up for it. A second later Martin's second hand slips beneath Danny's balls, cupping them, rolling them, squeezing and tugging and Danny forces Martin to move faster.

He thinks he may have even said it, hand working almost frantically now, but it's not until he opens his eyes --not really remembering when he closed them-- to find Martin watching him, staring, expression strangely focused and completely aroused, that Danny comes.

Coats Martin's chest in the process, ropes of milky white spilling between them, standing out in sharp contrast to the flushed red of Martin's skin and Danny doesn't think before collapsing forward.

He comes to a few seconds later, Martin's hand moving across his back, fingers tracing absent shapes and Danny mumbles an apology that earns him a laugh before rolling off of Martin, landing on his side and it's only then that Danny notices how trashed Martin's bed is.

Martin doesn't seem to mind, though, turning slightly onto his side, not enough to put weight on his hip, but enough to get an arm around Danny's hip. He's still watching, though, and Danny finds it somehow fitting that this began and ended with a look.

~*~

Waking up with Martin is... strange, to say the least.

Mostly because Martin's a complete bed hog --Danny practically falling off the side; in fact, the only thing preventing him from tumbling onto the floor is Martin's arm around his waist-- but also because Martin snores.

Softly, but it's there, something Danny wasn't really expecting and he finds it slightly odd that he sort of likes the sound.

It's comforting, anyway, real in a way he hadn't really pictured --although he's quickly learning that nothing with Martin is ever going to turn out the way he pictured it.

Martin also grunts before waking up, Danny finds out a second later, Martin grunting, tightening his grip, releasing it a second later and Martin jerks, Danny just catching the sight of Martin's sleep glazed eyes before, as expected, the sudden movement sends him crashing down onto the floor.

"Jesus, Danny?"

Danny doesn't answer, instead grunting a reply because he's pretty sure the fall managed to knock the wind out of him. To make matters worse, he's somehow managed to land on his nose and if it wasn't broken before, it certainly is now.

"Oh, God, Danny."

And suddenly Martin's kneeling next to him, stark naked, Danny finds himself noting, fistful of kleenexes in hand and Danny accepts them gladly.

Later, after he's once again released from the hospital, Danny will find himself wondering if it really was the look that started all this. There's always the distinct possibility that this began, and ended, with a broken nose.


End file.
